In Another Dimension
by Cececat
Summary: After taking a mysterious medication for a headache at a strange Halloween party, a teen girl is sent back in time to 1972 and somehow meets RHPS characters and actors in London. Yet she can't help but wonder if it's 'real'. Or is she hallucinating? Is she in a coma, induced by an overdose? Is she dead? [Partly inspired by BBC TV series "Life on Mars"] (Please Read & Review!)
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_**

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 **A/N: So, another story has begun. At least I've got this one plotted all out. Oddly enough it's not at all inspired by my actual life. Most of my stories are, though usually metaphorically. Another thing I might want to point out is all of Alice's brother Alex's friends (including Alex himself) are named after characters from _A Clockwork Orange_ (the book,  not the awful movie). There's a bit of symbolism to that. **

**Also, this was partially inspired by the BBC show _Life on Mars_. It played from 2006-2007, which is why this story begins in 2006 (among other reasons). Alice is in a situation that seems somewhat like ****_Life on Mars_** **character Sam Tyler's. The ending/reveal of this will be different than his story, though.**

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My name is Alice and I've got the strangest story to tell.

Like many stories it has a simple start. It begins near Halloween at a friend's house. The year happened to be 2006. It was my senior year of high school and I'd been invited to a Halloween party. The kids who invited me were my older brother's friends, mostly. They're all in college – _somehow_. I guess I wasn't really invited. Alexander – my brother – and his crony George decided my costume was cute. So they dragged me along last minute.

The costume in question happened to be an outfit based on the character Magenta from _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_. I adored that movie and often went to the midnight showings. A local college cinema played the thing every week.

Oddly enough, the college in question happened to be the very same college Alexander and company attended. Sometimes I worried they'd show up at the theater and wreck havoc. Thankfully that never happened.

"How are you, my _drroooogs_?" Alexander slurred.

"Well enough. How are you, Alex?" replied Peter,

That's Alex's second-in-command. He's far more responsible than the others in his own funny little way. Party organization and most other things requiring competence were his job. Why else would he already be there? When I was being particularly nasty I sometimes fancied the idea that only George would manage to become a stable adult.

As usual he offered me a drink. For a fool of a college student he sure looked professional. That bothered me somewhat.

"Oh, I'm not 21," I told him.

He rolled his eyes. "I know, girlie. You're Alex's cute sister who we all can't touch for another three years…"

"Seven months," I corrected.

Thanks to a strange little incident with a friend of mine I'd been counting down the days until my 18th. Far too many of my friends went to that college, which meant they were all older than me. One guy I knew… well, that's a story for another time.

Alex and his friends were playing very loud music. It was some really terrible stuff that sounded like a computer trying to drown itself. I hate that sort of music. For some reason I tend to forget about all the terrible music and the drinking and the drugs at Alex's parties.

"Can you get them to change to the music?" I asked Peter.

He gave me a sympathetic look, but then my low cut blouse distracted him. I'm not that pretty but virtually anyone looks hot in that costume. It's not trashy or anything, even. The look on Pete's face gave me the impression he was thinking naughty things one shouldn't think about underage girls…

"Sure. Though in return I might want a… kiss?"

Laughing, I gave him a peck on the cheek. "There! Now can you play some David Bowie for me? Even Alex likes that, I'm sure you know."

He nodded. "ChangesBowie will play next. It's a lucky thing for you that _I'm_ the only person sober enough to use the iPod."

Somewhat distantly I nodded in agreement. My head was starting to really hurt from the loud music. I felt

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Nervously, I shook my head. "No. I… I've got a terrible headache."

"Would you like something for it?"

I shrugged. "Sure."

Quickly, he reached into his pocket for a bottle of pills and handed one to me. "This should lessen the pain."

So I took the pill. This required me to drink something. Thankfully, there was soda there too. Though it wasn't the drink I should've bothered with. You see, there was something odd about the pill. My 'little adventure' – this story – was caused by it. I passed out only moments after taking that horrible medication (I never figured out what it actually was). The last thing I saw or heard or anything that was from 2006 happened to be part of a song. A song from the late 1960s, oddly…

" _Ground control to major tom your circuits dead, there's something wrong… can ya hear me Major Tom? Can ya hear by Major Tom…? Can ya…"_

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Some time later – or, as I later learned, _decades_ earlier – I awoke on a city sidewalk. Still I wore that odd costume of mine. This didn't seem to bother passerby who hurried on anyway. Wherever I'd ended up it was cold.

Something was very wrong, I knew. Either I'd died or become comatose due to some sort of overdoes… or started hallucinating. I hadn't any idea what that pill had been. Of course, I'd assumed it to be aspirin. Perhaps it wasn't even the drug. Maybe the witchcraft of Halloween or something stupid had caused this madness.

After a while I realized how cold I was getting. My somewhat skimpy outfit wasn't helping matters. So I began pacing around.

I happened to be outside an apartment building of some sort. Though I didn't realize it

"Who the hell are you and _when_ did you raid my best friends wardrobe?" the girl asked.

There, right in front of me, stood someone who just might've been 'Columbia' from The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Or, perhaps, she was a fan cosplaying. Either was I wasn't being mistaken for a tart. Not to mention she was smiling brightly and seemed totally harmless.

"My name is Alice… and my fingers are _bloody well frozen_ ," I explained unpleasantly.

"Well... maybe you should come inside."

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	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_ at the present time. **

**A/N: Sorry this isn't very good. I can barely think of anything nice to write these days. On a somewhat unrelated note, do** **any of the people who might be reading think I should up the rating to 'M'? If one goes with the "she's in a coma" thing has _very_ disturbing implications given the setting she passes out in (meaning). Though that's up to interpretation right now and isn't actually stated. It's a sort of 'fridge horror', as TV Tropes might put it. So I'll probably keep it at 'T' (which is basically PG-13) currently. **

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So, Columbia led me into the building. It turned out to be more of a house inhabited by a number of people than an apartment complex. She seemed terribly excited about something.

Eventually we made it to a small room that seemed to be some kind of kitchen. It wasn't very well lit, heightening my anxiety. Though Columbia soon found the light switch. The place seemed safer after that. Then I could see the simple counters, the battered fridge, the older-seeming microwave, the comfy chair, and a variety of other things.

"So… are you a representative of the fanclub?" Columbia asked me.

"No," I replied.

Then, I remembered a certain scene in the first Ghostbusters movie. You know, the one when Ray is asked if he's a god by the insanely powerful monster and he says "no". For a moment I felt as if I'd made an equally stupid mistake. But Columbia was harmless and somewhat dim-witted. A bit like Samwise Gamgee, come to think of it.

Her grey eyes widened. "Oh dear! We were expecting somebody, you see."

"Trying to start midnight shows somewhere?" I asked.

At that point I'd guessed I was in the 1970s or 1980s, though I didn't know the exact year. What Columbia next said somehow surprised me.

"It's 1972, silly. The movie doesn't exist yet. Yeah, I know about it all. Right now Mags, Riff, and I are getting to know Mr. O'Brien so that the play can happen. Though I've seen the movie, which exists in 1975 already because we. It's called a stable time loop according to Riff..."

"Columbia! What little tramp have you found on the doorstep this time?" someone said darkly. "It looks like a cheap burlesque of me."

The both of us turned around to see Magenta standing in the doorway looking far from pleased. That unpleasant look on her face made me worry at bit. Clearly, she was annoyed at Columbia. And, most probably, me.

"Mags! It's real exciting! She's a _time traveler_. It's obvious from the way she's dressed. Also, I asked her. See, she's a fan from 2006 who likes you enough that she dressed up as you for a costume party."

"Is _she_ that person from the fanclub?" Magenta asked, arms crossed.

Columbia's smile faltered. "Er, no…"

"I didn't even mean to travel here. One minute I was complaining about a headache, the next – oh my God, I am a freaking idiot. The next thing I did was take a pill from a stranger I've never met to help with that headache." I was starting to panic by then. "Am I actually here? This is some kind of fucking dying dream or hallucinaion or-"

Then, presumably to shut me up, Magenta kissed me. It wasn't a nice kiss. No, it was a rather rough kiss that nearly hurt.

"You felt _that_ , didn't you? This place is real. We've accidentally made you time travel or something equally stupid. So stop you're soppy complaining or I might skewer you with the pretty firepower over there."

For a moment nobody spoke. I was still in some kind of shock from being kissed and threatened, while Columbia seemed too tired to think of much. She'd collapsed into the chair and closed her eyes.

Eventually, Magenta glanced at a nearby clock and swore under her breath.

"I was supposed to meet Richard at that wretch of a bar ten minutes ago... Columbia, why didn't you remind me?"

"Because," the girl grumbled.

Magenta sighed wearily. Clearly this meeting was of great importance - it involved Richard O'Brien! Who else could she have meant, given the context?

"Girl – what're you called, again?" Magenta asked, pausing in the doorway.

"Alice. That is, Alice Burgess," I told her.

Magenta smiled. "Welcome to London-land, _Alice_."

Then, she rushed out the door.

Columbia and I remained there in a not-too-terrible silence. Eventually, she slowly stood up.

"Time for bed, kiddo. I'll let you borrow my extra pajamas if ya want."

"Thank you," I said awkwardly.

Without further ado I was silently marched to a bedroom. There were two beds there, one far smaller than the other. Columbia tossed me some pajamas - which I awkwardly changed into - and gave me a collection of blankets to make into a temporary. Then, almost too soon, it was time for sleep.

As I lay in the dark the full implications of the situation set in. I'd probably be stuck forever. That meant I wouldn't see John again. I actually loved him. Seriously, I did. Though my parents didn't know or trust this guy I always talked about. My plan was to date him as soon as I'd turned eighteen - which wasn't so far away. Though now I wouldn't be able to. I was here... stuck, with all the people from a movie I adored.

Often I'd wished of being in the movie and knowing various characters. Even "Frankie" didn't seem so bad compared to real life. The only thing that made living in my own world feel worth it was John. He would hold me when I needed it and whisper to me that I'd be alright. Unlike other people I didn't need to explain, he knew when I was upset. His arms wrapped around me and those kind words made me feel safe for a moment. I was addicted to that man like some of those idiots I went to school with were addicted to weed. It hurt to stay away from him for too long. Being depraved of those slight touches, that calm safety... it basically hurt. I needed that feeling. Though he was old enough that being seen too close to him might upset the local police. Why did a few years cause so much fuss?

If I had more energy that night I might've complained to Columbia or someone. It's good I didn't, because annoying her surely would've made this tale much shorter.

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 **A/N: John is totally fictional. He's both a sort of 'wish fulfillment' for me (the 'person who cares in a romantic way' aspect, definitely not the 'way older' thing) and a flaw of Alice's. You see, she thinks of herself as better than the 'bad' kids at school while carefully waiting to be allowed - in the law's eyes - to officially date a man who's at least a few years older** **. What she does is equally illegal to her fellow high school seniors, though to _her_ those other kids are childlike idiots and she's a wise grown-up. Hypocrite.**

 **I nearly had John be a girl called Jane (yes, I was trying to use a common-sounding name). Though, weirdly sexist as it sounds, I've always seen a boyfriend as someone looking after me and a girlfriend as something I look after. So the character must be a _boy_ friend to Alice. Speaking of names, I hope you've noticed the meaning of Alice's name... **

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	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_. Also, all the 'real'/historical persons mentioned in this have been fictionalized. They're only slightly based on real life. **

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing, FireandBloodandKittens!**

 **By the way... this story supposed to take place around September 1972. I thought that it would be cold then in London. Though perhaps not, I haven't been to London except very briefly in August 2011(?).**

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The next day I almost forgot where I was when I awoke. Though I thankfully remembered before I could begin to panic.

By that point Magenta had already gotten up. Or, perhaps, she'd never gone to bed the previous evening. Never did I figure out which. She's an awfully mysterious woman. At least Columbia was still fast asleep…

I found my way to the kitchen I'd seen the previous night, hoping to find breakfast. Instead I found Magenta, Riff, and a man I'd never seen talking quietly. The sat around a table which was covered in papers. Suddenly, Magenta noticed me. Of _course_ she was already quite annoyed. That meeting or whatever was probably important and top secret.

"What's going on?" I asked.

She avoided answering the question. "What _are_ you wearing? Go find something of Columbia's that fits you."

Quickly, I did. This happened to be a dark red knit top (a sweater, I suppose), a miniskirt that made me a bit uncomfortable, black stockings, and a little hat made of the same material as the sweater. For shoes I wore the boots I'd worn when I'd shown up. When I returned to the kitchen the papers had disappeared and the other two people had left.

"My friend Mrs. Hawkins needs a babysitter to look after her child," Magenta explained. "Both she and her husband work, you see, now that she's got a job again. Do you think you have the patience for such a thing?"

"Yes," I lied.

"Lovely. I'll drop you off on the way to _my_ job."

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Mrs. Hawkins happened to be an attractive woman who couldn't have been more than 25 (or so I then thought, I later discovered she was about 28). She had dark brown hair – it was nearly black – worn in pretty shoulder-length curls, a cute face, and a lively manner. At the time she wore some sort of striped knit dress. It was actually quite nice for 1970s fashion.

She lived in a nice little apartment. A soon as we entered the place she ran over to greet us.

"Hello, Magenta! Who's this?" she asked.

"A babysitter for Quinn. Her name is Alice," Magenta replied.

"Oh! It's nice you meet you. The little rascal of a boy is over there in his crib."

I'd expected the child to be four or five years old. Instead he was something closer to one. This was sort of bad…

At least Mrs. Hawkins had the sense to explain how to look after him. That mainly meant. Magenta was _clearly_ enjoying my disgust. She'd done this on purpose. Still, I wasn't backing out yet. I wanted to prove I could survive these circumstances.

"Have fun being shat on by a screaming child!" Magenta said as she left.

Okay, she was definitely being nasty. Why did she do that?

"What's the baby's name, again?" I asked as I cradled him.

"Quinn. After my maiden name," she explained cheerily.

Quinn. That sounded familiar! Slowly I added all this up in my head. A son named 'Quinn' after her maiden name, her friendship with Magenta, that iconic voice…. "Wait – you're Patricia Quinn! What happened to your hair?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's all… dark brown."

"Well, what other color _should_ it be? Purple?" she replied, laughing.

"You're hair was reddish, I thought," I replied. "Sorry."  
She smiled cheerfully. "It's fine, we hadn't met. I should be hurrying off to work now. Have I told you about my job yet?"

"No."

"Well, I'm in a movie! Isn't that exciting? I've already been in plays and on the television before, not to mention a cameo in the film _Up the Chastity Belt_. Don played a more important character in that piece, you know. Around the same time was in _Up the Front_ as the maid named 'Magda'. It's funny how those titles are so similar, isn't it? Now I'm playing the role of '2nd Bird' in this picture called _The Alf Garnett Saga_. That's my biggest film role so far. Isn't that something?"

"Yes, that's something," I replied awkwardly.

Mrs. Hawkins laughed. "What a nice girl you are! Do take good care of Quinn for me."

Without further ado she left. At that point I dearly hoped that it wasn't all a dream. I'd just met Patricia Quinn. Very young Patricia Quinn. And I was working for her! I was the babysitter hired to look after her son! That was somehow the coolest thing ever.

Speaking of the boy, he chose that moment to cry again. By then we'd set him back in his cradle.

"Mummy!" he shrieked.

"She's at work, kid," I told him. "Though she'll be back by four, she told me so earlier. That's quite a few hours from now…"

That's when I remembered that a baby probably wouldn't understand what I was saying. He clearly liked to see people talking, though. His mother seemed to be very talkative so perhaps it had something to do with her. I decided to keep going until

"Mummy's going to be a famous actress soon enough. Starring in _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_ and playing Livilla in _I, Claudius_. And lots of other roles," I explained. "She'll be a famous actress of stage, … with lots of fans. Though I don't know where you'll be. Or where your daddy will end up. I'm a fan of your mummy's but not of daddy. I've never ever heard of him!"

That's when someone opened the apartment's front door. I didn't panic because the person was calmly opening the door with a key (or so it sounded like). Since the front door led into right the living room I saw the man right away.

"Who the _devil_ are you?" he asked.

"Alice… the babysitter Mrs. Hawkins hired," I explained.

"Oh. I'd thought she hadn't properly found anyone yet."

"It was rather last minute…"

Then his eyes widened, as if he'd just realized something. "You're _American_."

"I know, it's horrid," I replied.

"It's fine enough, I've nothing against Americans. It's better than leaving the baby alone." He sighed wearily. "When _she'd_ playing small roles on television or in a play she gets a lot of time off. That woman has a shocking amount of energy. Usually we take turns staying home with little Quinn. Lately she's been working more and more, and I've been worrying a bit. Her career is growing faster than the baby is. At this point in her life I can't blame her for. Not that it's a good thing, mind you. But have you noticed how excited she gets? She adores performing! So it's hard for her to stop focusing on that. It's not that she ignores Quinn… it's that she can't handle everything at once. She thinks she can, of course. But she can't."

"I see."

Mr. Hawkins smiled at me, slightly. "I'll be staying home for much of today and looking after Quinn. That's what I planned to do. You're welcome to stay, if you'd like. It'll give me someone to talk to."

I nodded. "Alright, sir."

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	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own** ** _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_. Also, these are fictionalized versions of real people. They aren't truly themselves! Basically all I know of Ms. Quinn's first husband is derived from _her_ IMDb page. **

**A/N: It's so fun writing Patricia Quinn as a cute girl with brown hair getting all excited about bit-parts in films nobody's heard of. She's so adorable! This chapter doesn't involve the aliens interacting with actors,** **FireandBloodandKittens. Most from now on should... especially the next chapter! **

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So I spent the day awkwardly talking to Mr. Hawkins (who asked me to call him 'Don', but I didn't). Though we didn't really talk, _properly_. He just ranted at me for a while about his wife. It was so awkward.

"She was – _is_ – the loveliest woman. Though she's not practical. All she wants to do is act in pictures and on the television. I'm guessing you don't know much about that. You're just a random kid from America. That makes it even worse that you've been hired to look after a baby. I don't blame you – it really wasn't your fault. Sometimes I wonder why I married that woman…" he said at one point.

Yes, basically a whole day of _that_. And being taught to look after baby Quinn. At least I got a lunch break, in which I ate a dreadful sandwich. Looking after the slobbery young child of my favorite actress was a fascinating experience. It made her seem more human.

Finally, she came home.

"Hello, Patricia," Mr. Hawkins said unhappily. "How was _your_ day?"

"I filmed bits of a movie! Three scenes – that's exciting for a nobody like me," she exclaimed.

"Good for you. My day was less nice. I spent it looking after _our_ _son_ and wondering why the devil you hired a random American teenager to look after our baby."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, lighten up. Magenta was supposed to find a better babysitter, but apparently she failed."

"Why do you trust that woman?" Mr. Hawkins snarled.

Mrs. Hawkins rolled her eyes. "Why don't you, hmm?"

"Because! For one thing, her name is Magenta. Then there's that boyfriend of hers-"

"Brother," Mrs. Hawkins corrected.

"Same thing," I added.

"That makes it even worse!" Mr. Hawkins shouted.

For a moment, everyone was silent. Then we all heard the baby start crying again. Silently Mr. Hawkins left the room. We were in the kitchen by then, with Quinn still in his crib in the living room.

"I'm sure Quinn'll be alright. Don is a good father," Mrs. Hawkins explained awkwardly. "Though perhaps _I'm_ not a good mother…"

"You're doing your best, aren't you?" I pointed out.

Then, she smiled that lovely smile again. "Of course I am! Though it can be challenging, the baby and my career. Perhaps I shouldn't do both. I've been thinking about that…"

I was horrified by the very _idea_ of Patricia Quinn quitting her acting career. She hadn't even played in _The Rocky Horror Show_ yet. Anyway, didn't she divorce that Dawkins guy? According to what I knew of 'history' she wasn't married for the longest time.

"Don't!" I told her. "I mean, didn't you have fun playing Bird 2-"

"2nd Bird," she corrected.

"Right. Didn't you have fun? Don't you love acting? Please, for me, don't quit. Don't even say you might quit. I mean… you're a great actress."

She didn't seem to hear me. No, she'd zones out slightly as if lost in memories.

"You know how I was when I met Don? I was a Playboy Bunny. Seriously. Oh, you should've seen what I'd wear – it was wretched! At some point I ended up talking to Dom, though not at work. And I thought he was rescuing me. When you're 19 you don't know anything about life. That was nearly 10 years ago… I still don't know anything. Anyway, he courted me and proposed and soon enough we got married. It seemed like the right thing at the time. My mum would've been proud, I hoped. I was getting married properly, starting my career as an actress of stage _and_ screen. Following my dream, see? But marrying Don wasn't part of that dream. Nor was Quinn, he was all my husband's idea. It all seems to be getting in the way! What am I supposed to do now, I can't help but wonder? Oh… _please_ don't answer that."

"At least you aren't dating a college professor," I pointed out.

"Do you know someone who's dating a college professor?"

" _I_ sort of am."

"Oh. I suppose I can't scold you for it since my love life isn't much politer. What, with my boyfrie-" Suddenly, her eyes widened in shock. "Don't you _dare_ repeat that, _please_! I'll explain later."

It was at that unfortunate moment that Mr. Hawkins re-entered the room.

"Perhaps I should go," I said, fearing a fight.

"Where do you live, again?" Mrs. Hawkins asked.

"With Magenta."

"Oh!" Mrs. Hawkins exclaimed. "Where's that?"

"I don't know. I've only just shown up!" I replied, somewhat annoyed at my situation.

We all stood there in silence for a moment. Then, Mrs. Hawkins grinned.

"You know, Magenta invited me out for the evening. Why don't you just stay here until she shows up?"

"Okay…"

I was too tired to disagree. Anyway, the prospect of spending a few hours with my favorite actor was too exciting to turn down. Even if the actress' grumpy husband _was_ also there.

After eating a brief and awkward dinner, we watched a rerun episode of _Doctor Who_. It kept us all quiet, even the baby.

"I can just _see_ the day Quinn will be big enough to hide behind the sofa when the monsters are on-screen!" Ms. Hawkins said happily.

For a show with the cheapest effects possible _Doctor Who_ seemed oddly meaningful. It was just so British. Though I'd always liked the 4th Doctor best, this Jon Pertwee guy wasn't so bad. And the way the whole family watched! It brought them together the way _Rocky Horror_ connects so many people. Of course, _Doctor Who_ is far more family-friendly.

Not long after the episode ended Magenta _finally_ showed up. Though she's something of a bitch – which I hadn't realized back in 2006 – at least she was better than Mr. Hawkins.

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	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own _The Rocky Horror Picture Show._** **Also, the 'actors' and their families (Pat Quinn, Richard O'Brien, Mr. Hawkins, etc.) are fictionalized versions of real people.**

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 **A/N: Ye Gods. Magenta is just so fun to write as a very unpleasant person (as she is here). Hopefully readers enjoy it, too... and hopefully it's not out of character! I love her line " _Look, Patricia's already ordered enough drinks to kill a horse_ " even though it's so mean.**

 **Oh, and sorry for the swearing that's been here and there. It just seems to fit...**

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So we went to this bar to meet certain people. Magenta wouldn't say _who_ , though I had a hunch (pun intended). Mrs. Hawkins was reluctant until Magenta offered to pay for all the drinks. Of course Mrs. Hawkins agreed to that. Magenta also told Mr. Dawkins that it was a "girl's night" so he wasn't allowed.

We got in a cab and left the Hawkins' house.

"Mrs. Hawkins, I-"

She laughed, interrupting me. "Call me Patricia, dear. We _are_ friends!"

"Right, Patricia. Er… I'm 17. Is that old enough to go into a bar?"

Since Patricia didn't seem to understand, Magenta answered. "Dressed in Columbia's trollop-esque clothes you look nearly twenty. Like a tart, but still old enough to enter this place. That's 18 here… though it seems people don't care."

Glaring at her, I followed them both in. The place was dim compared to the lamp-lined street outside, though not too dark. A collection of table filled the room. On the actual bar itself sat a radio playing some old rock n' roll. Weirdly, it might've been _Fun, Fun, Fun_ by the Beach Boys. My dreadful elder brother Alex is a fan of theirs in the same way _A Clockwork Orange_ 's Alex is into Beethoven.

The sound of a song he liked made me think about home. Somewhat about John, who I missed dearly. Though _mainly_ about what my brother and his "droogs" (he'd seen the violent Kubrick film, though never read the book) and what sick things they might've done to me if the coma theory was correct. Being a weird little fanfic-writing _Rocky Horror_ fan I'd never thought about non-consensual incest. To me incest was. But then I realized my brother might've fucking _raped_ me. Or, in the least, his dear friends might've. Perhaps they sang that once-nice song _Singin' in the Rain._ How revolting.

The sudden sight of Columbia walking towards us distracted me from such thoughts, thankfully. She carried a tray with four pint-sized glasses of the bar's own beer. One for each of us, you see. Even one for me… though I only sipped slightly, since I wasn't used to the stuff.

Nobody spoke as we drank, save for a quick toast to "sexual intercourse and related joys" from dear ol' Patricia Quinn. That woman sure is something…

Within seconds Patricia had finished her glass. This amazed me.

"I need another drink," she told us solemnly.

Then she wandered back to the bar. She already seemed a bit tipsy. The funny thing about her was, I later learned, she never became drunk in a 'bad way'. And at some point she just stopped getting drunker. Her body can't stand the idea of being any more intoxicated and is in some kind of denial where it refuses to get drunker, it seems. It's really weird. Plus the alcohol never seems to harm her. I don't know how it works! She never passes out or vomits or anything. No, she'll merely say mind-bogglingly lewd things at strangers and become insanely cheerful, babbling about everything imaginable. Occasionally she'll sing, which is sort of awesome. Even with the slurred words and slight balance issues she still is a great performer. Though I will admit she sometimes falls over. But if you explicitly give her a task – like talking to someone – she'll do whatever it is with terrifying enthusiasm. I've been tempted to ask her for some kind of sexual favor but I never worked up the nerve. Perhaps she won't do _anything…_

"Look, Patricia's already ordered enough drinks to kill a horse," Magenta said nastily.

Indeed, our lovely friend had already gotten through at least one shot of the really strong sort and a few other glasses of unknown drinks. None of them looked like a good idea. And she was clearly at least a bit tipsy. Though that just meant very happy and giggly and flirtatious. It was sort of cute.

I took a deep breath. " _That_ is a feat I haven't ever witnessed firsthand until now. A friend of mine – though not a close one – once saw Ms. Quinn at a restaurant. She happened to be ordering quite a large quantity of alcohol in the form of various drinks with pretty names. Drunk she became, though apparently in a nice way."

After giving me a weird look Magenta wandered off. Eventually she was standing next to her brother, who happened to be talking to a man that just might've been Mr. Richard O'Brien. Columbia stayed behind with me.

"What's up with her?" I asked.

Columbia shrugged. "Who knows? She's an _alien_."

A moment later returned to where we sat. She carried with her four glasses on a tray.

"Hello, Patricia. What's that?" Columbia asked.

"Hello! _Drrrinks_ for you, my friends," she explained gleefully, her Northern Irish accent becoming thicker momentarily. "There's the local beer for you two and something _nicer_ for Magenta…"

"Speaking of Magenta," Columbia said, pointing to someone behind Patricia.

There was that sarcastic, unpleasant redheaded alien I'd always loved. Next to her stood her sullen lover/brother… and _Richard fucking O'Brien_. I would've fainted if I were the fainting sort. To me he was like a god. Though nicer than most gods – I _know_ he never raped anyone or turned them into a plant – he still scared me. I mean, he's like a Beatle! Meeting him And there he stood, looking somewhat uncomfortable. To keep from screaming or falling over or whatever I clutched the table with both hands. Only Columbia noticed, as far as I could tell.

"Hello! Who're you?" Patricia asked, happily. "Who is he, Magenta?"

He smiled slightly. "My name is Richard Smith, though I often go by the stage name Richard O'Brien now. You are…?"

"My name's Patricia Quinn! It's very nice to meet you, Richard."

Everyone stood there in awkward silence for a moment. Nobody seemed to know what to say for a while. Finally, Patricia thought of something.

Smiling sweetly, she said in her nicest RP accent: " _Richard_ , these nice gels are Columbia and Alice. The latter is American, you know, and staying with Magenta currently. You've already met Magenta, I see!"

"Her brother works at The Royal Court Theatre. So do I," he explained awkwardly.

"How extraordinary!" Patricia said happily.

So began their wondrous friendship – or so I thought.

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 **A/N: School (senior year) started today and it seems like it won't be too hard. So I'll be writing as much as usual. Though I did manage to argue with a number of people (in a nice way...?). That poor old sociology teacher might hate and/or fear me now. At least my economics teacher has a Monty Python-like sense of humor. Perhaps my new teachers will accidentally influence my characters...**

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	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own _The Rocky Horror Picture Show._** **Also, the 'actors' and their families (Pat Quinn, Richard O'Brien, Mr. Hawkins, etc.) are fictionalized versions of real people.**

 **A/N: More weirdness involving the actors, characters, and that bar... then surreal dreams involving Graham Chapman in a corset. Speaking of which, he and the man with the long arms are from _Meaning of Life_ (though I'm sure you all already knew it). Hopefully this is still a good story! And, last but not least, "thank you" for reviewing FireandBloodandKittens!**

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The rest of that odd evening we spent talking about nothing useful and, in Patricia's case, consuming vast amounts of alcohol. As I previously noted she never gets messily drunk. She's just wobbly-legged, flirty-mannered, and _very_ cheerful.

"You know, Richard. I've just drank six pints of _that_ … and lots of the ones with the pretty foreign names. Magenta's paying, you see," she explained at one point.

"That's… a lot," he replied wearily.

"Too much," Magenta muttered darkly.

 _She_ hadn't drunk much of anything. Though she'd started chain smoking as soon as Patricia had brought a third round of drinks. I suppose it was to cope with the stress of the situation. This made me wonder if she regretted offering to pay for all the drinks. Speaking of which, I began to try to think of where was her money from. Too soon the sound of Patricia singing distracted me.

It was really entertaining. And from Tolkien's _The Fellowship of the Ring_.

" _….and there they brew a beer so brown that the man in the moon himself came doooowwwn one night to drink his fill… the ostler keeps a tipsy cat that plays a five string fiddle. Up an' down he runs his bow, now squeaking high now purrrrrrring low… now sawing in the middle!"_ she sang joyfully.

The poor old bartender was just staring at her with an expression of total confusion. Though various other patrons – previously silent – had begun clapping along with her song.

Mr. O'Brien seemed fascinated by her bright, energetic demeanor. I suppose anyone would be. Though Magenta was clearly fed up with Patricia's drunken antics.

"Where did you find 'er?" Mr. O'Brien muttered.

Magenta raised an eyebrow. "I thought my brother told you."

By then Riff Raff had left that place. If I wasn't so bloody afraid of him I would've left at the same time. But the idea of being in the same cab as that fearful man wasn't one I could take. Though it was better than Alex and company, back home. I'd avoided thinking about the lot of _them_.

Patricia was far more fun than I'd thought. I'd always seen her as a regal woman with a slight liking for parties. Now I knew what she really was: one _delightful_ partier! Perhaps she'd later become the subdued and queenly woman I knew of, I briefly thought.

We'd had to pry Patricia off not-so-upset young men more than once. I think Magenta gave up on keeping when she clobbered poor Mr. O'Brien. What energy she had! Clearly Mr. Hawkins wasn't enough for her. That's awfully Roman of me to say.

Of course, I'm not calling her a tart or anything. I highly doubted she'd committed any serious adultery (kissing hardly counts). Even if she had everyone loved her anyway. Like Ferris Bueller, she had a special sort of charm. Not to mention she never does any _actual_ harm. What an extraordinary woman she is.

It's sort of like how bitchy Magenta had turned out to be. Despite her snarky comments and general nastiness, I still find her very attractive. Then again the unpleasantness of hers was actually pretty sexy...

Eventually it was time to go home. This saddened _me_ , of course, though everyone else was pretty worn out by then. Even Patricia, somehow.

After dropping Patricia off at her own apartment Patricia, Columbia, and I went back to where the former two lived. It was nearing midnight by then. Something about the empty streets and flickering of dying streetlamps was a bit ominous.

"Why did we do all that?" I asked, as we made our way into the house.

"We needed to introduce Patricia and Richard," Magenta explained. "Though it seems he knows less than my brother should've told him by now. Let's hope we aren't falling behind on this mission."

The look on her fair face gave me the impression she thought it _our_ (meaning Columbia and myself) fault that they might've been 'falling behind'. Going by the frightened expression on her face she agreed with me to some degree. So we both hurried off to the 'girls bedroom'. By that I mean the place Magenta, Columbia, and I slept. We happened to be the only girls living there (as far as I knew) so the name did make sense.

Like the previous night, Columbia let me borrow pajamas of hers. She seems to like sharing clothes.

"Are you guys renting this house?" I asked. "Or did you buy it…?"

Columbia sighed. "It's actually that spaceship that was some kinda castle. Apparently it can become the shape of any building. Another cool thing is that we have unlimited money. Now, I used to wonder how Frankie could pay for his parties. Though Magenta showed me this device of theirs and I finally get it."

"So that's how you paid for Patricia's drinks!" I said, finally understanding.

At this Columbia laughed. "Yeah. Though they weren't that expensive anyway."

After standing there in silence for a while the both of us crawled into our own beds. Well… my pile of blankets hardly counted as a bed. But neither did Columbia's cot, really.

Soon enough I fell asleep and dreamed a weird dream…

 _I was in a strange house of some kind. There was a hallway that seemed never-ending directly in front of me. In the distance I saw a greenish half-elephant being that was more than a bit frightening._

 _Then, a man wearing a suit appeared. He had very long arms and cat-whiskers painted upon his face. Something was terribly familiar about him. Soon enough I remembered. This was the man with the long arms, played by Terry Jones, in the last Monty Python film._

 _"Have you seen a fish?" the man asked._

 _Nervously, I replied: "No."_

 _"Oh. Shame, really. I've been looking for a lost fish that I loved like a son," he explained. "Just ask my transvestite friend!"_

 _"What do you want?" I asked._

 _He shrugged. "Nothing, save for my dear missing fish. I'm technically a message-carrier for someone who'll remain anonymous for now. He'd like you to know that things will be alright and that they'll be saving you. Soon enough you'll be home! The boys are in serious trouble for what's happened, not to mention your parents are horrified. He's trying to fix some things while you're away. He loves you, by the way."_

 _The man with long arms reached into his jacket pocket then handed me a gold locket. Carefully, I opened it. There was a black-and-white picture of a boy - hardly more than 12. He looked fine enough, with his dark hair combed nicely. I had not idea who the boy was. Though he seemed like he'd one day be handsome._

 _"That's all for now, Alice," the long-armed man said too soon. "Goodbye!"_

Then, I awoke. Next to me lay the locket from my dream.

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	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I don't own _The Rocky Horror Picture Show._ Also, the 'real' people are not really the 'real' people. They're just inspired by the 'real' people. **

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**A/N: I'm sorry I've been so lazy with my stories. Everything seems to be going badly (as usual). That's** **no excuse. Anyway, this chapter might be a bit bad and somewhat short. Sorry. They go wandering around and such, which is weird. I suppose it's a break before anything useful happens.**

 **It would be so cool to tour London with Patricia Quinn and Columbia the groupie. Lucky Alice! Also, the word 'gels' is supposed to be 'girls' spelled with a fancy British (RP) accent.**

 **On a totally unrelated note, does anyone else think Ace (from _Doctor Who_ ) ****resembles Nell Campbell? I was re-watching a later 7th Doctor episode ( _Ghostlight_ , I think it was called) and couldn't help but think so. **

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After changing into a borrowed outfit of Columbia's I put the necklace on. Clearly, something was important about it. The fact that it had just appeared made no sense and happened to be bothering me quite a bit. Trying to avoid that feeling, I made my way down to the kitchen. As I'd expected Magenta and Columbia were there. To my surprise, Patricia was there looking fine enough despite having been smashingly drunk the night before. Perhaps we hadn't been out as late as I'd thought.

"How d'you do?" she said cheerfully.

"I'm awfully tired," I answered.

"What do you mean? Is that an American thing?" was Patricia's perplexed reply.

Not knowing how to answer that I stayed silent. Magenta snickered at this, clearly understanding what the rest of us didn't. Or maybe she just like snickering at people.

" _Anyway_ , I haven't got anything to do this morning. I've got rehearsals later this afternoon for another of my plays but nothing to do until then. I was thinking we could go look around town. You know, sightseeing? Alice and Columbia haven't seen much of the city yet. Or perhaps some shopping."

"Sounds fun!" Columbia exclaimed.

"I'll pay for Alice and Columbia," Magenta said, reaching into her pocket for an 100-pound note. "Don't spend it all, girls."

Patricia's eyes were wide as saucers. "I doubt anyone could spend one hundred pounds - at least, where I shop. Magenta, where _do_ you get your money?"

Magenta smiled mysteriously. "I'm good at investing and I've got the ability time travel. How do you think? And please do take advantage of how little I know of Earthling currency, my friends."

"Oh that _is_ wonderful! I'm not so good with money, you know," Patricia told her.

We all stood there in silence for a while. Then Patricia looked at her watch and seemed to panic slightly.

"We should probably be leaving now, gels. Lots to see!"

"Goodbye, pathetic Earthlings!" Magenta called, as we left the house.

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First things first we went to see the Eye of London. That's this huge ferris wheel. Since both Columbia and I are afraid of heights this didn't really interest us.

"Aw, don't be silly! It won't hurt you," Patricia told us.

"I know," I replied, shuddering. "I still don't do things like that. Neither does Columbia, just look at her shivering!"

So we moved on. We walked around for a while, sort of bored. I wanted to go shopping to buy new clothes - in the hope I'd not need to steal from Columbia - though I didn't want to annoy anyone else. Patricia was looking for someone, though I really wasn't sure who for a while. Eventually I learned she wanted us to meet some people.

"There's a _dear_ old friend of mine named Tom. We met in a pub once, you see. He's very keen on drinking so we get along well enough. Like me he's done a number of plays and television cameos. I'm trying to think of where he might be."

It was at that very moment that a very tired-looking man ran into Columbia. Quickly, he apologized.

"Tom! Lovely to see you - just the person we'd been looking for," Patricia said, smiling at him

The man (Tom) had curly brown hair and somewhat strange eyes. At the time he wore an old suit and a strange hat. Something seemed very familiar about that man. I slowly came to the conclusion that he should've been wearing a scarf.

When I _properly_ realized who he was I sort of screamed, then tried to explain. "Oh my God. You're Tom Baker! Dude, you're the 4th doctor! The one with the very impressive striped scarf! Oh my fucking... God."

Everyone else just stared at me for a while.

"He plays ... though not yet, I guess. You're still stuck on the 3rd, this being 1972..."

"Don't mind Alice. She's from the future," Patricia explained.

Like any true actor, Tom wasn't phased by this. That kind of people had seen all sorts of weirdness already. A teenager babbling about someone being a future television star was surely nothing compared to what lunacy actors often saw.

"There's a pub down the street, Patricia. The food's pretty decent... should we catch up over lunch there?" he asked.

"Sure," Columbia said.

"Sounds _lovely_ ," Patricia added.

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	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I don't own _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_**

 **A/N: I haven't updated this story in about six weeks... wow. Though I took a break from all my stories at that point. Nobody really reviews anymore, which saddens me. That's one reason I don't write/update like I used to.  
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So we went out to lunch with Tom Baker. By then I was hoping that, even if I was in a coma-dream, I would be able to stay here forever. Back home I was living a mostly dull life and constantly in fear of my brother's friends. Here in London - whether real or not - I was friends with favorite actors and characters. It was too good to be true, but I didn't care.

Anyway, the pub was a nice little place. There's weren't too many patrons and everything was pretty clean. We all ordered something to drink (I got water, because alcohol scares me). To my surprise Patricia didn't order herself a serious drink. Then everyone decided on some kind. We still had tons of money courtesy of Magenta, but Tom didn't know it.

The conversation seemed to mostly involve behind-the-scenes BBC politics. Who was dating who, wondering why so-and-so _really_ left this or that show. None of it made much sense to Columbia or myself. It became a bit more interesting when Patricia asked what plays or shows Tom had been recently.

"Nothing much. Things have been a bit quiet ever since the time I bankrupted myself. They sent me to a _doctor_ because of that."

"I remember that, I think, though I can see you don't want to talk about it..." Patricia said, nervously.

"What have you done lately?" he asked her.

Just what she wanted him to ask. It was almost embarrassingly obvious. Though I suppose there wasn't any crime in being proud of

"Oh, I'm working on a film now."

"A Film."

"Yes, a film. I play the girlfriend of a character named Jim.

"You talk?"

"Why of course! I wouldn't be telling you if I didn't talk in it."

Tom laughed, awkwardly. "Of course you wouldn't be... I suppose."

"I'm sure you'll find something soon. Something amazing, of course, since you're a wonderful young man. You've a commanding voice and interesting eyes. That's just the sort of thing the casting departments like! Though I'm sure you know that. Keep auditioning and soon people will recognize that voice and those eyes. Oh, then you'll be a star! I know you're older than me, and you still haven't landed serious roles as I have. The cinema likes the men older, otherwise they'd look like boys. You're a grown up with a youthful hairstyle who can sometimes... _what_ was I trying to say?"

I giggled and then attempted to stifle it by drinking a bit of water. This didn't really do me any good, though everyone was to busy focusing on something else. Patricia was smiling kindly at Tom, he was staring, and Columbia had disappeared at some point.

"You'll one day be someone very special, I _know_ it," I told him. "You'll bring joy into the hearts of children and earn lots of money for the BBC. Everyone will know your name, or at least you're scarf."

Patricia laughed that funny laugh of hers. "She's from the future, Tom, she know what she's talking about."

Though he wasn't as cheerful as Pat, Tom still seemed to have brightened up a bit. It was really sweet. Sometimes I wonder if Patricia inspired the song Rose Tints My World in any way. When she's around things seem more... light... fluffy... happy... I don't know. If you're in the same room as Pat, even, things seem a bit brighter. Her lovely presence rose-tints the world. It's wonderful how lovely she is. What a personality!

"Speaking of bringing joy into the hearts of children... I wonder what our children think of us," Tom said thoughtfully.

"You don't have children," Patricia pointed out.

"Maybe I will one day. You have a son, though. What do you think he thinks of his mum being an actress?"

Patricia kept on smiling, even in the face of such an odd question. "He certainly likes going to see the set of whatever show mummy is working on. Though he's still a baby and prone to being loud, so they don't allow it too much. I get Don to sneak him in! Ha!"

This answer clearly didn't satisfy Tom. So he kept asking questions. "Pat, I mean in the long run. Say... fifteen years from now. What do you think your son is going to think of your movies?"

After staring at in silence for a moment she took a deep breath and spoke: "I'm not sure. Is it even my business to know? He'll be _sixteen_ then, Tom. That's a big number! I'll have made quite a few films by then. If things go as planned I'll have quite a resume built up, playing all sorts of marvelous roles on the stage and screen. He'll be a young man. Why are you asking me this?"

"I don't know," Tom said darkly. "I don't know anything anymore. At some point I'm going to write to the BBC asking for a job. Honestly, I can't think of anything better..."

It was at this point in the conversation that things were getting a bit too uncomfortable. So I decided to go looking for Columbia. They hadn't really noticed her disappearance... so why would they notice mine? And I had already finished my lunch.

So I left the quiet pub. After stepping out into the busy city street. Because it was lunchtime the traffic - both pedestrian and the usual sort with cars - was worse than usual. Though not NYC bad. London, I believe, is never as busy and gross as NYC. Finally I spotted Columbia standing nearby (just at the entry to some sort of ally). Though she wasn't alone. Clearly she was having a hushed, urgent conversation with someone. But who?

Then, I saw a child standing nearby. A boy with a far-too-familiar face.

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